The blatant truth of the matter was that I did not have a clue about what I wanted in life. For all my bold claims and raw smarts, I was terribly aloof and unaware of what I desired. I was particularly fickle with the future and what I planned to do with it; I was obsessed with the past and what had come before; I was continually trapped in the daze of today.
The audacity, then, for me to advise a friend or someone who asked for it did not go unnoticed to me. In fact, like someone trapped in a cell of their own making, I kept a tally on the walls of my mind. I was counting the number of times I pretended to know what I was talking about when the only things certain in my life were the breakfast I repeated every day, the two or three things I did regularly without any significant results budding out of them, and the obliviousness about my own quirks and shortcomings.
I did not know what tomorrow held for me, where I’d end up, or with whom. In fact, I did not even have an inkling about the direction I had to walk towards. I was fond of walking, that much was true, but my preference to do things without an end and for the sake of doing them had me trudging aimlessly and in circles for years; I returned to the same flaws, the same people, the same dreams, and the same godforsaken town.
Perhaps, writing these words in the past tense is a step towards me breaking out of the prison I mentioned earlier. The walls are filled with lines now. I believe it is now that I shall plan my escape from this hole I’ve dug myself in over the years. I’ll do it slowly, taking one day at a time, and then all at once, I shall be free.
It has taken me a long while, but I accept now that my confidence is false and my surety, a mirage. I’ve held onto it for so long, the sand has started to slip out of my hand.